


Accio Founders Drabbles

by mitdemadlerimherzen



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drabbles, F/M, Hogwarts Founders - Freeform, Short Stories, one shots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-19
Updated: 2017-08-19
Packaged: 2018-04-27 02:51:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 6,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5030824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mitdemadlerimherzen/pseuds/mitdemadlerimherzen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a series of Hogwarts Founders drabbles, mostly focusing on Helga Hufflepuff and Salazar Slytherin. No timeline, no plot.</p>
<p>Will update this whenever inspiration strikes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. You Shouldn't Have Said That

**Author's Note:**

> This is a random bunch of drabbles/headcanons of the Hogwarts Founders, particularly Helga Hufflepuff and Salazar Slytherin, because it obviously only takes one superb fanart these days to get me into a ship. They follow no order, no timeline and mostly no plot.   
> My own fanart can be found here: "mitdemadlerimherzen"."deviantart"."com/gallery/50186654/Harry-Potter"
> 
> Disclaimer: I've missed writing these. I don't own Harry Potter, it's all JK's. (Ignore all the disclaimers of my past stories where I said I owned anything. Apparently I only own stupid ideas ;-))

"Helga." Salazar Slytherin was speaking very quietly and moving his lips as little as the words would allow. "Hide your face."

Helga Hufflepuff obeyed for once. Usually she would have made a point of not being told what to do or say, but this time she simply grabbed the hood of her robes and pulled it over her head.

She felt Salazar's strong protective hand on the small of her back and knew something was wrong. They had been to a wizarding market in order to buy ingredients for potions lessons at their newly founded school and on their way back they had to cross through a large town.

In the centre of the town stood a pyre, faint smoke rising from the ashes of wooden logs scattered around. Salazar had stared straight ahead while passing it, his gaze resentful bordering on furious, but Helga had stolen a sad glance at it. Burning witches and wizards was a common occurence in their time. Most able sorcerers feared no harm on the pyre, but then the most able were seldom caught. It was mostly uneducated Muggleborns and more often even Muggles themselves (wrongly accused of witchcraft) that burned to their death on the stake.

Salazar resented Muggles for this. Helga merely felt helpless.

They hastened towards the road leading out of the town. Helga regretted coming with him. They had been fine while purchasing their ingredients but as soon as they were back on Muggle ground the problems had started. They were both rather well dressed and that attracted attention. They were also strangers, which always attracted attention. And they travelled with no visible luggage and by foot, which was most unusual.

People stared at them from windows, from doorways and those who passed them on their way shot them suspicious glances. Helga shivered. She remebered the day her village had turned on her. She had been born and raised in a small village and by the time she was twelve, she was able to heal injuries. A couple of years later it had brought her to a pyre of her own.

They stopped dead. Ahead stood at least twenty men, pitchforks and shovels in their hands, looking grim.

"Who are you and what business do you have here?", one of the men asked in a harsh tone that suggested that they were unwelcome, whatever business they might have had.

"We are on our way home. Our business is not your concern." Salazar responded with an air of authority, like a lord might address his minions. He subtly stepped in front of Helga so as to shield her from the men's view.

"Give us your belongings and you shall be allowed to pass.", a second man spoke up. He wielded his fork threateningly.

Helga noticed the wand suddenly in Salazar's hand and gripped his arm.

"We have no money with us." He lied blatantly, relaxing a bit under Helga's touch.

"Then give us the woman!"

This time Helga tensed, but Salazar's mouth turned into a mirthless smirk. "You shouldn't have said that."


	2. Protect What You Hold Dear

"Put the fire out."

Salazar Slytherin appeared from the trees at the edge of the clearing, hurrying towards the small fire crackling into the night and started to extinguish the flames. The two hooded figures sitting opposite each other around the fire looked up at him sharply.

"Salazar, how can you walk so quietly? You startled me," said the smaller one, dressed in dark blue, almost black due to the dark of the night.

The other figure, broader, taller and cloaked in dark red frowned. "What is the matter?"

Salazar looked back at them suddenly. "Where is Helga?"

"Helga went into the wood. She said she wanted to think for a bit. And since this is what you usually do, I thought you might have met," the light haired man answered.

Salazar's eyes searched those of his friends. A touch of nervousness showed in his composure – so fast was it gone that they would have missed it, had they not known him their whole lives.

"Salazar," said the dark haired woman imploringly.

"I will find her," Salazar answered and turned.

"Wait! What is wrong?"

"I just happened upon a group of at least thirty bandits. So keep. Quiet," he advised in a hushed whisper and disappeared back into the wood.

The two companions took defensive stance, back to back, their wands drawn, listening for the smallest noise.

Helga was strolling lazily among the trees, lost in thought. They had been travelling aimlessly for days, sleeping randomly and she was growing weary. Then she heard voices ahead, startling her out of her reverie.

She looked up and saw on the path ahead a large group of men with torches, untidy and dressed in rags, armed with whatever would have been at hand, talking noisily. They had not seen her. Yet.

Helga froze. If she drew her wand, she would probably be able to defend herself. But she would reveal her secret, too. They would either take her and rob her – and worse – or burn her. Still she was rooted to the spot.

She had just decided not to go down without a fight, her right hand reaching for her wand, when a hand clamped down on her nose and mouth in a steely grip and a strong arm around her middle dragged her aside, into the trees and off the path, slipping into the shadows.

Before she could even struggle a deep voice whispered into her ear. "It is me."

Helga relaxed and the hand on her face retreated. Salazar had pulled her into the shadow of a tree, one arm still around her waist, he covered her light hair and robes with his dark green ones, her back pressed against the tree. She looked up at him and their eyes met. His free hand raised a finger to his lips. Helga tried to slow her breathing.

The group came ever nearer them and Salazar pressed closer to Helga still, his heart racing. He could have gotten rid of them all on his own, but they did not need the attention. They kept silent while the rampaging men passed them on the path, oblivious of the witch and wizard standing so close.

When the bandits were past, Helga and Salazar both relaxed a bit. He pulled away a few inches meeting her eyes, seeing hers widen in surprise and shock as he felt them both slip on the leaves strewn about the forest ground.

There was no stopping it. They slipped and fell, sliding down a slope, rustling the leaves and crashing against the trunk of a fallen tree. Helga finally let out a small scream of pain.

"Sssh," Salazar hushed her.

They lay silent, listening. Then they heard one man shout. "What was that?"

The others seemed to have stopped to listen, too. "Over here, I heard it!" The voices grew nearer again. Salazar pulled his hood over his head and pulled Helga back against him, covering both of them with his cloak, hoping the green would blend in.

Footsteps where back at the place where he had first dragged Helga from the road. She buried her face in his neck, he could feel her heart racing against his chest. Then a loud crash from afar.

The men ran, noisily, towards the sound.

Salazar dared to breathe again.


	3. A Bit Of Rest

Salazar Slytherin took the steps two at a time. He was on his way out of Hogwarts for some urgent business down in the next town. The sun stood low and the trees of the forest cast a shadow onto the newly built greenhouses. He relished the quiet of the summer vacation.

He walked briskly down the path towards the gates flanked by two winged boars when a dark figure caught his attention. He stopped and squinted into the twilight. On the grass just outside the greenhouses, where the sun still reached the ground, lay a person. A disturbingly familiar person.

"Helga..." he murmured and stopped short. Forgotten were all thoughts of urgent business and hurrying back to the castle for dinner. He jogged across the lawn towards Helga's still figure, all the while thinking about possible scenarios that had her ending up unconscious - please, let her just be unconscious, he thought - on the castle grounds.

He fell to his knees beside her, heart beating furiously in his chest, taking in her completely slack figure, arms spread wide at her sides, hair slightly disheveled, earth on her clothes and hands.

"Helga..." he whispered breathlessly, eyes roaming her face, lifting a hand to cup her cheek.

He reached for her hand to feel her pulse and-

"Salazar?"

His head snapped back to her eyes so fast, he thought something cracked in his neck. There she was, blinking up at him with those wide dark eyes.

"Helga? What happened?"

"What do you mean? Nothing happened."

She accepted his hand and let herself sit up.

"I was on my way out and saw you lying here. I thought you were-"

Salazar stopped talking when she started to laugh. He shot her a reproachful look. Helga stood up and held her hand out for him.

"I'm sorry. I was working myself tired in the greenhouse and the grass looked so inviting. So I lay down and rested for a bit. My apologies for scaring you." She shot him an apologetic look and smiled hesitatingly.


	4. Courage

She is not entirely sure how that happened. They have been teaching potions together for almost a year now and this was a perfectly ordinary lesson. After the students left for dinner, she and Salazar cleaned up their workspace, putting away ingredients and cauldron.

She said something to him about showing up for meals because he was skipping them now and then lately and she cared for him and then turned to leave the room.

And quite suddenly Helga finds herself with her back to the closed dungeon door, Salazar right before her, barely an inch between them and her heart beating like she had just run a mile.

His gaze is like nothing she has ever seen before on him. He almost looks entranced - by what she can only guess - but his eyes are searching hers - for what she does not know - and she is held in place by him, staring up with wide eyes.

It is over so fast she has to doubt it even happened but before she realizes that his lips brush hers, he draws back, taking in her own lips parting in a soft gasp.

'Salazar…' she whispers and it is all he needs to cover her mouth with his again, softly - tentatively - brushing his tongue against her lips, sighing at the sensations as his body reacts to the contact.

But just as she closes her eyes and leans in he draws back again and whispers 'Helga… stop me…' his voice cracking on the last word and her gaze snaps up to his and her breath catches at the pure rapture in his eyes. But they also hold fear, his eyes, and she reaches up to reassure him, grasping his robes softly.

'What if I do not want you to stop?' she breathes and after a brief flicker surprise is replaced by wonder and he smiles slightly.

'Meet me in the entrance hall after dinner.'

With one last look at her he turns and leaves and Helga is left grabbing desperately at the door handle because her knees are so weak they might just give out.


	5. Eye Of The Beholder

She was by no means a beauty. Not by the standards of her time. She did not have the pale, aristocratic complexion like Rowena, or her shining dark hair, her nose was not straight and her posture not dignified, her cheekbones not high and her eyes did not hold the wisdom of a life in the magical world.

Helga Hufflepuff was rather short, she had rosy cheeks and bright eyes. Her light hair shone like the sun itself, sometimes blinding. Her nose turned up a slight bit at the end and her smile was full of wonder and happiness for a world which was so new to her. Her hands were dirty with fresh earth more often than not and she smelled of young grass and soft spring rain.

And, Salazar thought, was that not another kind of beauty altogether.


	6. I Trust You

'I trust you,' she says quietly, a challenging glint in her eyes.

He stares at her, mouth slack, disbelievingly. 'You do?'

'I do. I always have,' her voice is barely a whisper now and he steps forward to catch her words, trying to understand how this woman has gotten under his skin so thoroughly.

She closes her eyes when he reaches out, tilting her head up to him gently, smiling.

He watches her until their noses touch, revels in the way she gives him all the power over her, knowing he will never deliberately harm her. He only closes his eyes when his lips touch hers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fanart for this can be found at "mitdemadlerimherzen"."deviantart"."com/gallery/50186654/Harry-Potter"


	7. Safe

She comes to slowly, grudgingly. There's a nice place in her head, without smoke and ashes and people smelling of sweat. No arms dragging her, bruising her, spitting on her, cursing her.

She wants to stay there forever but she knows she can't. There's someone touching her softly, carefully, the way she has never been touched before. Slowly sounds come into focus, too. There's thunder in the distance and the rustling of trees in the wind. A storm is coming.

Her eyes open and there is a face, vaguely familiar. Ah yes. The wizard. He has not noticed that she is awake yet, he is busy washing out a rag. Then he turns back towards her and halts.

He takes in her mostly clean face and the teartracks on her cheeks. The silent sobs wracking her body. And he says the words she will always associate with him alone.

"You're safe now."


	8. Cheeky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I also have a fanart for this drabble, which you can find on my deviantart: just type in "mitdemadlerimherzen"."deviantart"."com/art/c-h-e-e-k-y-562183858" (without quotation marks, obviously)

While Godric and Rowena are busy scheduling their lessons for the upcoming schoolyear, Salazar takes a walk around the lake. He has already sketched out what he will be teaching and the constant arguments between his two friends is starting to rattle him. While he loves both his friends dearly, he cannot help but seeking the quiet.

Halfway to the lake, he senses rather than sees movement at the edge of the forest. Intrigued, he strays from his intended path and draws nearer to the trees instead. He sees a bush rustling and advances as silently as he can. The bush only reaches his waist, so he leans over it curiously, wondering what creature he might find.

He looks instead upon a tangle of blond hair, hands plunged into the earth, so intent on her task that she does not notice him.

'You might want to try a bit further by the lake. I hear the mud is especially muddy there.'

She jumps at his words and looks up at him with wide eyes.

'Salazar! You startled me!' she exclaims with a scowl, but her eyes soften when she sees his amused smile.

'Forgive me, Helga, but I could not let this opportunity slip,' he answers and extends his hand towards her over the bush. She wipes her hand on her skirt before taking his and letting herself be hoisted up.

'What are you up to?' she asks suspiciously, while rounding the bush and stepping to his side.

'A walk around the lake,' he responds and surprises himself by adding, 'Care to join me?'

Helga smiles and nods and together they stroll lazily towards the lakeshore.

'You know, you cannot go about and scare the wits out of people. I may just startle but imagine if you did that to Rowena. You would probably sprout wings for arms or she would transfigure your legs into wagon wheels,' she teases.

'And Godric would probably curse me first and ask questions later,' Salazar laughs lightly. 'I will just have to confine myself to startle only you, then.'

Their eyes meet and hers widen at the intensity of his.

'Not if I get you first,' she replies and slowly grins up at him as he returns her grin mischievously.


	9. Hugs

Hugging Rowena is almost always awkward. It is a rare occasion in itself for her to need physical reassurance – even rarer from him, he is not her chosen solace – and her need to appear strong and mature does not help the matter. She is better at giving hugs herself. Her embrace is cautious and gentle, almost cool, but comforting nontheless, like a fresh breeze on a warm summers day.

Hugs from Godric are what hugs from a bear must feel like. They are complete. They almost suffocate, although Godric is hardly taller than Salazar. They make one feel secure, as though nothing bad could ever touch oneself again. Hugging Godric feels like a warm fire on a cold winter night.

Helga hugs like the badger that adorns her house crest. She has a gentle but fiercely firm grip. She likes to cling to him, pressing her body as near as possible and holding on as long as he will permit. To Salazar, Helga's hugs feel like coming home.

Salazar is not one to say out loud he needs a hug. He will show her, though. He will grab her hand or gently touch her neck, until she embraces him. He will sigh and then wrap his arms around her, one hand preferably in her hair, one round her waist. He will not let go for a long time.


	10. Wands

'How far is it?' Helga asks curiously, picking her way through a field of corn, trying to keep up with the man walking ahead.

'About an hour's walk, from here,' he answers, throwing her an amused look over his shoulder. 'I could have just Apparated us there, you know.'

'And what fun would that have been?' She questions and gives his back an exasperated look. 'I would not feel like I earned it. Just appearing and disappearing? You never know what you would have missed!'

Salazar sighs. 'I would most certainly not have missed this,' he mutters and looks up at the sky, a light drizzle of rain meeting his upturned face.

'You could have just pointed me into the right direction and let me go alone,' she suggests and shrieks as she steps into a rabbit hole.

Salazar laughs lightly and pulls her out – her leg sunk in to mid shin – saying, 'And who would pull you out of trouble, then?'

They resume their path side by side this time.

Another rabbit hole and a lot of rain later they enter the woods, the tight-standing trees sheltering them somewhat from the rain. Salazar deems it safe to perform a spell and dry them off. As they draw nearer to the centre of the woods, they can hear noises. People talking, cows mooing, chicken, horses and also some noises Helga has never heard before.

The first look they get at the market is the cloth of the tents through the trees. Helga falls silent as they walk between two tents right into the middle of a busy crowd of witches and wizards.

There is a whole family selling herbs, an old hag selling squishy looking things that drip red liquid – Salazar pulls her away from that one – a tall, dark wizard selling scrolls of parchment, another one advertising loudly about food and drink.

It is sensory overload, all the noises and smells – the overpowering smell of fire from all the cauldrons set up in almost every tent – and the things Helga does not even have names for, yet. They spend a good time with Salazar just pointing things out to her and explaining uses of powders and plants.

After a sparse meal of dry bread Rowena had packed them with, they wander towards the most northern point of the market. There, between tents bearing cloths and furs, is a small, unremarkable tent, an old, frail looking wizard sitting on a stool just inside the open flap, dozing.

'Lazy day?' Salazar asks as they approach. The man jerks up and smiles widely.

'Salazar Slytherin! Cedar and Dragon Heartstring, twelve and a quarter inches! It is good to see you again,' he shakes Salazar's hand warmly, then notices Helga standing slightly behind Salazar. 'Oh and you brought a new customer? Lovely!'

Helga, not the boldest or most confident of people, shyly extends her hand to the stranger.

'Mr Ollivander, this is my dear friend, Helga Hufflepuff. Helga, meet Mr Ollivander, he makes the finest wands in the country,' Salazar introduces them. 'Helga needs a wand,' he adds to the old wizard.

'Of course! Come in!' he invites them into his tent, which is full of wood, various tools and a big wooden chest.

Mr Ollivander places Helga in the middle of the tent and circles her, looking her up and down. Helga grows nervous. She was born to and raised by Muggles and never had much contact with magic people before she met Salazar, Godric and Rowena.

'I see…' he mumbles, and 'Maybe…' He then scurries off to fetch something from the wooden chest in the corner. Salazar grins at Helga when she turns and looks at him helplessly.

Ollivander returns with a long thin wooden stick, which he thrusts into Helga's hand. She takes the wand and looks at him with wide eyes, but then he already snatches the wand back, putting it down on a low table.

The next five wands are discarded almost as fast as the first. Salazar watches with amused eyes as Helga does nothing but take wands and look bewildered. Finally Ollivander produces a wand from his chest and hands it to her with an anticipating glance.

And that is when an energy flows through Helga's veins as if she were Healing, but so much stronger. The force of it tingles from the tips of her toes to the roots of her hair and it scares her a bit. She looks at Ollivander and then at Salazar, who smiles encouragingly.

Ollivander claps his gnarled hands together and beams at Helga, who blushes.

'Rowan, ten and three quarter inches, Unicorn Core!' He exclaims, 'Of course!'

Helga has a hard time keeping her hands from her wand on their way back home.


	11. Propriety

When on the road they usually sleep back to back. Then Rowena joins them, which makes the matter difficult at first, because Godric is very protective of her. So Rowena sleeps in the middle, the two men with their backs to her. They each keep an eye open in case the protective wards slip but they are mostly able to rest.

When Helga joins them it is back to sleeping back to back: the men and the women respectively. With their group of four they are even able to appoint a guard, shifting every few hours.

When Helga and Salazar are traveling alone, though, the awkwardness begins. Salazar – having been raised a gentleman – is very uncomfortable sleeping side by side with a woman in such an improper way. So he will putter around the fire, or search firewood or claim to not be tired at all.

Helga has no such concerns. Being the youngest child with five older brothers, she is used to sleeping in the middle of a tangle of boys.

In the end he will almost always lie down while Helga is keeping guard, shifting restlessly until she lies with her back against his and then – and only then – relaxing.


	12. Chime

She is dimly aware of the faint ringing of the village's alarm bells. Her sleep has been so deep that it does not register, though, buried between her brothers for warmth. The oldest one sits up suddenly, throwing open the small window and peering outside. 

'No fire...' he mutters and reassures the others as they stir. 'Go back to sleep, probably just some runaway sheep.'

Helga snuggles deeper into the light blanket, trying to keep out the chill of early winter. Her eyes fly open, though, when loud voices approach and the door of their home is thrown open. She can hear her father shouting, her mother screaming. Her brothers waking and upon George's command shoving her behind their backs and into the crack between their house and the chicken shed. 

She crouches there, eyes squeezed shut and her hands covering her ears. She can hear, though, her brothers assuring the men that came into their home, that there is no girl here, only them. The men search the room and upend the bed, but find no one else.

Helga can still hear the bells chiming when the men are long gone and George pulls her, crouching and shivering, out of her hiding place. 

The next time Helga hears the chime from her hiding place she will not be so lucky.


	13. Finders

Salazar looks at her like she is insane. Maybe she is.

'I will not wear this. Just keep it for yourself.' He averts his eyes from her big disappointed ones. Her hand is outstretched towards him, palm up, and on it sits an oval pendant, made from pale silver, but scratched and muddy. 

They have been adventuring around the woods all day, leaving Rowena and Godric at the lake, picking their way through the underbrush and looking at plants. Helga stopped at a particularly bright yellow flower and started to dig it out – roots and all – while Salazar watched her fondly. Then she stopped digging to look at something and Salazar knelt beside her to inspect the object she had found.

The pendant on her palm catches the sunlight and glints. She puts it into her skirt pocket with a slightly dejected look on her face. Salazar almost apologizes, if only to stop her from looking like that. But he grinds his teeth, he is too soft with her anyway, he decides, and turns away, missing what Rowena has dubbed Helga's 'plotting' smile as she follows.

So they make their way back to the edge of the lake, where Godric and Rowena sit suspiciously close beside each other and Salazar hears nothing about the locket for some time.

It is almost three moons later that Helga seeks him out on her own in the middle of the day. He is poring over some ancient looking scrolls of parchment, quill in hand. She knocks on the open door to his room and gets a smile as he looks up. 

'Helga...' he says, his deep voice amused by her appearance. She is giddy, can't wait to show him-

Salazar stands up and rounds the table, leaning on it with his back and crossing his arms.

'Spill, Helga, what are you up to?' he teases.

She comes to stand two paces before him and extends her hand, revealing a crumpled piece of velvet. Curious, Salazar unravels the cloth and discovers the locket. Only, it looks nothing like the muddy, scratched thing from before. 

It shines, purest silver, smooth, a delicate figure of a snake forming an ornate 'S' adorning the front. As he takes it from her hand, his fingers brushing her palm, both inhale sharply.

His eyes flicker to hers and she starts at his intense gaze. He looks down at the locket, brushing his fingers over the snake, feeling it. Speechless.

'Did you make this?' he whispers, mesmerised.

She smiles in answer and produces a silver necklace to loop the locket on.


	14. 2 a.m.

If his door opens in the middle of the night and light cautious footsteps approach his bed, it can only ever be Helga.

Godric will only disturb him at night if it is an emergency. He will slam the door open and rouse Salazar, shaking him roughly and shouting at him to wake up immediately.

Rowena will open the door a little less violently and then splash his face with a stream of cold water from the tip of her wand, telling him in a hushed voice why he needs to be awake.

But if there is a light padding of feet across his room during the night, it is Helga. Sometimes she is trembling from cold or a nightmare, sometimes she is not. But she is always warm and soft, climbing under his sheets where he holds them up for her, snuggling into his waiting arms and sighing softly when she settles down against him.

Salazar will encircle her with his arms and pull her close and those are the nights he will sleep deepest.


	15. Never

Helga Hufflepuff has never before felt so shocked. Not when she performed her first bit of accidental magic at age three and a half, not when she discovered she could heal her brother's wounds that would have killed him, nor when the people of her hometown tied her to a stake and approached her with burning torches.

She stares at the ground a few feet away from her and sways on the spot. Salazar is there to steady her, a hand clutching her elbow, anchoring her like nothing else could in that moment.

Her hands shake uncontrollably, then her arms, then her whole body. Her wand falls from her grip and clatters to the stone floor. Her face is ashen, all blood drained from it, her knees are weak, Salazar grips her other elbow.

He stoops slighlty to look into her eyes, finds only terror. 'Helga,' he tries but she doesn't seem to hear, still staring at the ground. 'Helga, are you alright? Are you hurt?' When, obviously, she is neither.

He follows her gaze and understands. 'You did what you had to do.' His voice low and soft, his hands sliding from her elbows to her shoulders finally making her look at him.

'You had no choice, Helga.'

Her mouth opens and closes, as if she wants to argue, but words fail her. She looks at him helplessly, eyes wide and wild. He draws her into his arms, hands stroking her back, can feel her heart beating erratically against his chest, trying to soothe her, to stop her trembling. He needs to get her away from here.

His arms retreat from her body, one hand sliding back down her arm, clasping her hand, the other silently _Summoning_ her fallen wand and tucking it inside his cloak. He leads her a few steps down the road and _Disapparates_ them.

But not before Helga takes another glance back over her shoulder.

Back at the body on the ground.


	16. Again

Suddenly there are several faint  _pops_  around them. Salazar has his wand out in a flash, Helga is no more than a fraction of a second behind. They move to stand back to back,  _Shield Charm_  already in place, which is a clever move, as they immediately see that they are surrounded. Five wizards circle them, wands drawn, faces triumphant.

Salazar quickly estimates their individual strength and picks those who seem to him most powerful. For a minute the attackers just circle the two Founders, which gives Salazar and Helga a moment to discuss a hushed course of action.

When the first curse rebounds on their shield and the second one –  _bright green light_ – shatters it, Helga and Salazar are ready. They move as one, Salazar drawing three of the five wizards away from Helga, who engages the remaining two in battle.

For a few minutes curses fly wildly, then a body hits the ground,  _Stunned_. Then Helga lands a hit, the second opponent going down, wand flying from his hand, ropes binding his body tightly. Salazar allows himself to feel a little relief, Helga is still a rookie duelist after all. He ducks a  _Stunner_  and lands a  _Blasting Curse_  that blows the wizard's body a good distance through the air before he hits the ground and lies motionless.

Now the odds are even. One-on-one they battle, until Salazar hears what he has been dreading since hearing the first pop of  _Apparition_. Helga lets out a surprised gasp – she never was one to scream – and her hands fly to her chest, knees hitting the ground, breathing hard. Salazar reacts instinctively, whirling round and hitting Helga's attacker with a  _Stinging Hex_  in the face, before slashing his wand diagonally through the air and felling the man.

When a disarming spell hits him from behind and his wand flies from his hand, he is expecting it. 'Helga, run!' he shouts, before a  _Stunner_  renders him immobile.

The last attacker comes to stand above Salazar and as he raises his wand, Salazar knows there won't be hostages. This one is going in for the kill. He just hopes that Helga got away.

But then the wizard's eyes seem to be distracted by something.

_'REDUCTO!'_

Helga's voice cuts through the silence and the man is blasted away from Salazar, his body hitting the ground a good distance away with a sickening  _crack_. The curse binding Salazar is lifted and he scrambles to his feet, silently  _Summoning_  his wand, and faces his saviour, her eyes wide and her wand arm still raised.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is actually the companion piece to 'Never' (chapter 15). For those who might not have spottet it.


	17. Healing Hands

 

The girl's hands tremble from exhaustion, cold and fear as she hurries through the underbrush towards the big oak tree, towards the young man half lying, half sitting against the trunk.

Salazar barely registers Helga falling on her knees beside him, rain pounding down upon them and running down their faces. He feels numb, strangely detached from his body, all panic from a minute ago is gone and he is tired, so so tired.

Helga kneels in the mud beside him and he disinterestedly watches her shift a bunch of herbs to examine by her wandlight. Her cold hands barely grip the wand tightly enough and she inhales deeply, trying to calm herself, concentrating hard on a bunch of fallen leaves. With a wave of her wand, the leaves come together and form a wooden bowl, a nearby stick becomes a pestle.

Salazar's befuddled mind briefly wonders if she can do magic.

_Of course she can! She is a witch!_

She puts some of the herbs she gathered into the bowl and starts crushing them to dust, or rather a slimy green mass thanks to the rain. But that doesn't matter, she reminds herself, it's the plants that count.

Time is of the essence now, as her friend pales further, slouching a bit more down the trunk, his breathing more shallow than ever before.

One minute ticks away and Helga adds the rest of the herbs, grinding the mass some more. Her eyes flicker to his, closed now, sweat mingling with the rain on his face and she curses herself for not paying enough attention and for being so slow finding the right plants in the rainy dusk.

Another minute passes and Helga hurriedly checks the consistency of the herbs with her finger. She pours a bit of water into the bowl and tips it towards Salazar's lips. He does not react.

She shakes him slightly and his eyelids flicker, but remain closed, so she guides his face with one hand and tips the bowl with the other, until the green liquid is mostly past his lips and only slightly sloshed across his robes. He swallows obediently.

Helga waits and prays that it works. Prays she has not made a mistake. Thinks of the irony that the first time she has to mix an antidote by herself it is to save a loved one. The moments tick away and Salazar does not stir. Desperate, Helga grabs his hands in hers and squeezes.

She tries to _will_ him to conciousness. To safety. _To her._

Her fingertips start to tingle and she recognises the feeling from years back when her brother was lying before her, bleeding, and she threw herself on him and _willed_ him back-

So Helga closes her eyes and thinks about Salazar, every happy moment they had together and when she feels his hands grip hers, she slips into unconciousness.

When she wakes again, the sun illuminates the damp and dripping forest and Salazar's arms are around her, one hand softly stroking her hair.

 


	18. I Say Maybe

They are running down a long cobbled street at top speed. Which is no easy feat if you're wearing a medieval farmer's dress and carrying a bag of apples on your back.

Helga thinks it's exhilarating.

They had been roaming the countryside, the four of them. Godric had announced at breakfast that he wanted to spend the bright summers day outside, since they had been working so hard for weeks. And so they had all packed a pouch of water and a piece of bread and left their small cottage by the great ruin.

Around midday they had come upon a small cluster of little houses – no more than shacks, really – half of which had fallen in and obviously been uninhabited. Helga had spotted a tall apple tree in the yard of one of those rotting houses. They had snooped around the old abandoned houses for a while – Godric in the lead – and had fooled around, enjoying the day off from planning and building and scheming.

There had been dust everywhere, and cobwebs and rotting wood. Some buildings had still had a roof, some had been completely claimed by nature, with weeds growing in every possible corner and one had had a small tree sprouting in the middle of what must have once been a kitchen. The sun had bathed all this in soft, warm afternoon light when Rowena had alerted them to a scraping noise. Their bags full of apples, they had peeked around a still standing wall of stone.

And that was when they had taken flight. A group of men with sticks and shovels had chased them away from the apple tree and they had separated, running and laughing along the way, not wasting one thought on the idea of simply hexing their pursuers or disapparating.

Helga begins to slow down when a stitch in her side becomes painful. A quick glance over her shoulder assures her that only Salazar is behind her. She jogs to a halt – still laughing – and is spun around by a firm but gentle hand on her elbow.

'He looks carefree,' is all Helga has time to think before Salazar kisses her.


	19. Never tickle a sleeping Dragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on this headcanon by its-hogwartsahistory: https://its-hogwartsahistory.tumblr.com/post/163908651483/35-headcanon

When Rowena tickled the sleeping dragon, she was just curious. The beast was huge, at least half as high as Godric's godforsaken tower. Which was currently the highest point of the half-built castle. Until Rowena would be finished with hers, that is. Can't let Gryffindor have the highest tower. Anyway, the dragon roared and flexed its wings, as if telling her 'look, I can fly! What can you do?!' but Rowena took a fighting stance – which incidentally she had learned from Godric – and drew her wand. At first she tried the obvious thing, trying to put the dragon out with water, but that was soon abandoned as the firepower of the animal was so extreme that she could barely protect herself from it. In hindsight it was probably a stupid idea – a Gryffindor idea – to tickle the beast. But she had done it out of curiosity, not because Slytherin had dared her to or whatever.

Next she transfigured the grass beneath the dragon's feet into ice. That worked so far, as the dragon now lost its balance an landed almost comically on his ass. Rowena proceeded then to make kind of an ice slide on the slightly downward side of the grass and with some well placed  _Repulso_ charms she pushed the bewildered beast down the slope.

As she stood there, watching the dragon slide awkwardly away, Helga stepped up to her and said:

'That really was a stupid idea.'

'Well, at least we learned something today,' Rowena answered. 

**'Never tickle a sleeping dragon.'**

**Author's Note:**

> Will update this whenever inspiration strikes.


End file.
